I’ve had some time to collect my thoughts, so wanted to share some of the great memories from Camp Chaos ’07, and provide some "explanation" behind a couple of the more disturbing photos.
Mike had been warning us that it was EXTREMELY dry up there, and to be prepared for lots of dust. Well we got hit with rain Friday evening and throughout the night, right up until about 10am Saturday morning – Perfect conditions and zero dust! A couple waves of riders went out Saturday morning - completely unorganized, unintentionally, and merely coincidentally ;) . I hung back to ride the property with my wife and kids.
It was a beautiful sunny day for riding, and at about 2-3pm the riders started coming back in. It was time for the big event – the annual harescramble race! KTM Mike held a riders meeting where the rules were set:
1. At the end of each lap you collect a zip-ty and put it on your handlebar.
2. If you’re riding team, your teammate then takes off for a lap while you take a break. If riding solo, you're a little crazy, so you just keep going.
3. At the end of the grass track section was an optional but short “hero” section that you could take for an additional zip-ty. Every 2 zip-ties collected in the optional section would count as 1 extra lap.
4. Zip-ties could be used for bike repairs, but if used this way, would not count towards laps completed.
5. At the end of the race you turned in each zip-ty collected for a playing card, with each card worth a certain point value. The rider or team with the highest number of points wins! It paid to be fast, lucky, or both!
After having some good fun with KTM Mike, I knew my time was coming at the harescramble. My suspicions were raised when Mike generously offered me a 3 minute head-start for the race, along with a special starting lane. This was all under the pretense of “accommodating” my shoulder injury… :think:
Alrighty then, I’ll take my well-deserved punishment! There were rumors circulating among the crowd that I’d be blasted with paintballs in the first tight thicket, subjected to some of Atlanta’s very own Bares in the woods, or worse yet – forced to proofread every one of Woodsy’s adventure stories!
So the smokin’ hot 30-second girl drops the card and I ready the kickstart for the dead-engine start. With heart pounding, muscles tense, and throttle-hand twitching, I launch off the line for a 2-hour battle of skill, endurance, and a chance to dance with lady luck. It was a 40-yard holeshot into a sharp, blind, left-hand off-camber turn into the woods. Not since the infamous ’07 Jack Pine enduro had I twisted the right grip so hard for so long. To dwell on the fact that I was the only guy to launch from the line would be nit-picking. Regardless, when the ink dries on Camp Chaos ’07 record books, it’ll state that happy camper Smit-Dog took the holeshot.
Pumped up with adrenaline and a 40-yard victory under my belt, that first hard corner into the deep woods was approaching faster than these 43 year old reflexes could process. With the Head Counselor’s stern warning barking in my head “DON’T RUN OVER THE STAKES!”, I went into self-sacrifice Kamikaze mode and laid my trusty yet resisting steed abruptly on her side. The crowd behind me let out a huge sigh of relief knowing that the lone white pine stake would survive at least one more lap.
So it was off into the woods to wage battle against the likes of Metzler’s Marsh, Sampson’s Swamp, and Elk Crossings. It was classic enduro trail, complete with some short, slimy rocky sections for keeping your foot dabbing skills sharp, lots of little up and down, off-camber sections, and a handful of whoa-where-did-that-turn-come-from-dang-overshot-it-again stuff. There were cut-offs for “A” sections and “B” sections, although with the rain the night before the signage looked more like bad Japanese Kanji (…. Or maybe Woodsy WAS there… :think: .
So here I am, still leading my one-man race after 1.7 miles in, and I come across a tight little thicket section strewn with pink ribbon. But wait, what the hell is this? A trail obstacle never before seen or encountered…. A man waving his arms, standing smack-dab in the middle of the trail, blocking my way and asking me to stop and get off the bike. At this point I was in race mode, and we all know what happens when someone is blocking your trail in race mode! What are you doing? Get the bleepity-bleep outta the way! Seconds are ticking away! Wait a minute, this guy with black leather boots is approaching me with a pink boa, and wants me to put it on. Recalling how I got out of this situation the last time it happened, I tried the fake submission, then attempted to break free… but the tight thicket section was the perfect trap for this unsuspecting single-tracker. Realizing that I was trapped deep in the woods on his property, my cries for help were deafened by the next wave of bikes roaring off the line. Feeling no way out but to oblige his demands, I cautiously got off the bike, removed my helmet, and was led to a table with a written list of demands that must be met before I could be freed.
With beads of sweat running into my eyes and unsure of my safety, I tried to focus on the page of detailed instructions:
1. Must wear bright, prickly, hot, and itchy pink boa.
2. Must wear apron to prevent running away or escaping on bike.
3. Must serve an unknown elixir to 15 riders that pass through the trail.
4. Must offer to clean goggles of riders.
5. Must offer to start bike for at least 1 rider.
6. Must perform jig or dance for riders.
7. Must interject jokes during all of above.
Once all of these demands were met, I would be released, humiliated yet otherwise unharmed, back into the race.
As the last knot in the apron is tied, the first set of 3 riders arrive at the Smit-Dog Humiliation Station. Under the watchful eye of my captor and his accomplice snapping pictures, under duress I offer the riders a drink. Like me, they too are in race mode, and see nothing but a pink, feathery, apron-donning fruitcake serving drinks – and I’m in their way! Realizing that I’m not leaving until they drink, the riders quickly find out that they aren’t leaving either until they partake in drink.
Techniques ranged from a quick under-the-helmet shot, over-the-shoulder SALUTE!, to pouring it all over their face and goggles like they had just completed the Tour de France (and those riders, especially the ones that rhyme with “Sparky”, would later realize that sugar + water + goggles = bad vision!).
After 20 minutes of servitude, and with my captor gone on his KTMBike, I spit the last of the pink feathers out of my mouth, tore off the apron, grabbed my helmet, and broke free. Never has the sight of a grass track looked so good!
I rode team with my son Zach, but since I was detained in the woods, he left the line early to help save me. We hooked up back on the grass track, where we went round and round creating what can only be interpreted as crop circles by roaming satellites. There were also 2 great jumps (track rats would call it a “1-whoop” section) to help break up the 53 left and 61 right-hand turns.
After 2 hours of racing it was time to find out who rode the most laps …. Or, well…. At least was the luckiest in pulling Jokers out of a deck! There were lots of trophies, laughs, and smiles out on the deck that evening, followed-up with a great food feast.
My many thanks to the entire Stephenson family for organizing and hosting this event… It is one of the highlights of the year for my family. Also thanks to all the other campers who help make the event what it is! It was the perfect weekend all the way around, and we greatly appreciate it!
We had to cut out a little early on Sunday... My wife and son had a bad case of poison ivy (contracted just before the weekend), and were itchin' to get back home to see a doctor.
Miscellaneous ramblings…
Ted: Those shots of you jumping are awe-inspiring. I wish I was there when those pictures were taken to see it firsthand. I showed them to my 73-years young father-in-law, a man not easily impressed… and he was impressed!
CrazyTrails: Better save your money, ‘cause you’ll be paying the fiddler next time!
Diver-Dog-Nate: Good seeing you again – Get on your bike and ride it more so that the mice don’t make it their summer home.
Justin: I think he went through a few tanks of gas on that 50, only stopping long enough to get his trophy! He asked me if my girls wanted to go riding on the grass track with him, but that he wanted to lead. I told him sure, but jokingly told him my girls are pretty fast and may end up passing him. He looked at me in disbelief and deadpanned “I don’t know about that…. I’m pretty fast too ya know!”.
Raden (sp?): Look out for this kid at a future FES event. Just turned 5 and started riding 4 weeks ago. He was riding this past weekend like he was born on a bike.
Kurt & Mike L: Thanks for the rides on the GAS GAS (Wow – what a motor) and YZ (razor-sharp handling). My 2-hundy felt like a play bike after getting off yours!
Young Ted: If you don’t find any taker for the three (3) fuel filters for a pre-’94 305 small-block Chevy w/ aluminum pan, try craigslist. I do admire your technique for cleaning out your garage!